


Let the Dead Remain.

by oceansgrey



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Edo Tensei, Founders Era, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:13:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansgrey/pseuds/oceansgrey
Summary: Madara deals with the second anniversary of Izuna's death while those around him suffer at his irritability.Edo Tensei is a cruel jutsu.





	Let the Dead Remain.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no other love like the love for a brother.

The whole Hokage tower seemed to shake at the slam of the door to the Hokage’s office, Madara’s booming voice carrying several flights down. Tobirama could hear him within the confines of his laboratory, hand paused in his brushstrokes for the new jutsu formula he had been working on.

“This plan is the stupidest thing you’ve ever come up within the entire existence of your life, Hashirama!” he shouted, gripping at the wood of the Hokage’s desk. “If you think the Uchiha is going to cooperate with the _Hyuga_ of all people, then-”

“Madara, please, just listen to me,” Hashirama shook his head. “We need the Hyuga,”

“No, we don’t!”

“Yes, we do,” Hashirama reiterated, pointing down at the letter he had received from the leader of the Hyuga. “We need to think about expanding the village, and having the Hyuga on our side rather than against us makes sense,”

Madara locked eyes with Hashirama before he reached out and grabbed a heavy book off the desk, chucking it at the window behind his friend. Glass shattered, and he heard some poor civilian shriek as well as the satisfactory thud of the book slamming to the ground.

Hashirama was too stunned to notice Madara let out a groan before storming out of his office. Two interns immediately rushed in, Mito strolling in behind them. She carried two cups of tea, eyebrow quirked as she watched her husband stand from his desk, a sad look on his face. She handed him his tea and gave him a kiss on the cheek in greeting, taking his now empty seat for herself.

“Madara sure seems…chipper,” Mito noted as she watched the two interns attempt to fix the window Madara broke. She traced the rim of her teacup as she watched her husband pace around his office.

“I should-”

“You should absolutely not go after him,” Mito interjected, predicting his next line of thought. “You’re lucky he didn’t hit you,”

“Something’s wrong with him, and what kind of friend would I be if I just let him stew in his own thoughts?”

There was a knock at the door before Tobirama let himself into the room, surveying the damage with a sign.

“Elder brother, it might do him some good to use his brain for once rather than his brawn,” Tobirama said.

Hashirama pouted, sitting beside his wife.

“Fine,”

 

“I need him to step down,” Hikaku complained, watching from his seat beside Naori as Madara screamed at one of the elders. Poor Kagami, Hikaku thought, watching the young boy tremble at their clan head as Madara continued his screaming tirade. Naori hummed in agreement, one eye watching their clan head closely. Madara seemed tired, the bags under his eyes more predominant, eyes more bloodshot. Having fought by his side in battle, she had only seen him this way during a fight three years ago with the Senju, one that has lasted four days. He seemed to run off of adrenaline alone that fight, only getting sleep once Izuna forced him to, the younger taking his brother’s place.

Naori sighed.

“I miss Izuna,” she said, careful to keep her voice soft.

“He kept Madara sane,” Hikaku agreed. “I don’t think he can do it much longer,”

“All of you, out of my house!” Madara all but shouted, eyes shifting into his Mangekyo, a silent threat. “Now!”

Nothing was getting done within the Uchiha clan, and it was only time for the usurper, the man who murdered his father in cold blood, to become the usurped.

 

It came to Hashirama late at night two days later, Mito snoring softly by his side in the early hours of the morning.

He had nearly forgotten about it, the village taking precedent over everything. Their fight, Madara’s demands, it all seemed to slide into place.

_“I have no brothers left,” Madara said, eyes sad as he looked up at Hashirama, at the sword aimed down at him. “I have nothing to protect,”_

Hashirama sat up, the early morning fog of his mind seeming to clear instantly. He threw off the covers, quickly tucking in Mito to make sure she didn’t grow cold, before slipping on his sandals.

No matter the time, he would always be there for his friend.

 

Hashirama could tell something was off with his friend the minute he crossed the threshold to Madara’s home, the whole house dark.

It was the second anniversary of Izuna’s death.

“Madara?” Hashirama called out, slipping off his sandals as he made his way towards the back of the house, where Madara’s room was. His greeting was met with silence as he slid the door to Madara’s room open, finding his undefeatable friend curled up on his futon, blankets drawn up to his face.

Madara had been irritable, to say the least, over the course of the past few days. After the incident at the Hokage’s tower, he seemed to shut himself within the Uchiha district, only interacting with his fellow clansmen. Hashirama remembered Naori coming into his office, blind eye seemingly piercing though him.

“He won’t listen to me, nor his advisor,” she had said, her voice steady yet threatening. “As Hokage, you need to deal with him,”

“What do you want, Hashirama?” Madara mumbled, his friend crouching down beside him. Hashirama reached out and brushed some of Madara’s unruly hair out of his face, a large warm hand resting against his cheek.

“My dearest friend, I apologize,” Hashirama gave him a soft smile. “I didn’t realize what time of year it was. I know it’s hard for you,”

“It’s not. I’m completely fine,”

“Then why are your clansmen coming to me and saying you’ve threatened to stab an elder for looking at you?”

Madara let out a snort, rolling his eyes.

“I did not threaten to stab him. I merely stated that if he continued to treat me like a child, then I would make an example of him,”

Hashirama shook his head, moving the hand he had placed on Madara’s face to his friend’s shoulder.

“I can tell, from what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen, that Izuna cared for you deeply,” Hashirama offered, watching Madara shut his eyes, the obvious pain written on his face. Hashirama felt somewhat lucky, in a sense, to lose his brothers except Tobirama so young. He grieved and moved on, Itama and Kawarama’s deaths so far away from where he was now. Part of him thought of his brothers, long dead, wishing that they could have seen the village grow, but Hashirama knew that the dead needed to remain in the past.

Madara was still grieving, and he would be there for his friend.

There was the soft sound of someone’s footsteps coming down the hall, young Kagami standing in the doorway.

“Good morning, Madara- oh, Lord Hokage, I didn’t know-”

Hashirama let out a small laugh, standing.

“It’s alright, Kagami. What do you need?” Hashirama asked.

“Tobirama-sensei asked me to come get Madara,” Kagami said. “Something about meeting him in his lab,”

“Whatever Tobirama wishes to discuss with me, he can discuss it here,” Madara frowned, sitting up. Hashirama had to resist a laugh, since his best friend and brother never talked, only argued. The reason for that was the reason Madara had his Eternal Mangekyo, the reason his eyes were deemed the second dangerous thing in the village next to Hashirama’s sage jutsu.

“Tobirama-sensei said it was ‘of the upmost importance,’ and that you need to come immediately,” Kagami said, averting his gaze from the glare of his clan head.

“Don’t kill the messenger,” Hashirama teased, placing a hand on Madara’s shoulder. “Let’s see what he has to tell you, together,”

 

Madara decided that if Tobirama really needed to talk to him, he could wait until he bathed and dressed for the day. He put on his robes, pausing to look at himself in the mirror.

He looked more like his father than he would like to agree to, but pieces of his face he could see his mother. His eyes, his nose, all from her. He could vaguely remember her, since she died when Izuna was only a toddler, but he remembered how warm she felt, how her hugs felt safe.

Izuna looked more like her.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh before making his way out of his room to where Hashirama was waiting for him.

 

The walk to the Hokage’s tower was calming, the morning still young as the sun began to peer over the mountain. Young children were making their way to the academy, chasing after one another.

It reminded Madara of chasing after Izuna when they were little, his little brother the faster of the two, laughing in the sun while their father watched.

“Here we are,” Hashirama said, beginning to walk the steps up into the tower. Madara turned back, looking back at the street of the village he had helped build, and felt far away from home.

 

Hashirama knocked out of politeness to let Tobirama know they were entering his lab, the door swinging open to reveal Tobirama seemingly shielding someone from view.

“What did you need to tell me so urgently that you sent Kagami?” Madara bit out, not caring to waste time.

“I completed a new jutsu, and I figured you wanted to see it,” Tobirama said, peering over his shoulder.

“Show me,” Madara fought the urge to roll his eyes since Hashirama was beside him. “I have important business to attend to today,”

Tobirama stepped aside to reveal the person he had been shielding from his brother and Madara, the Uchiha’s breath catching in his throat as he felt his heart stop.

 

_“Madara, come here,” his mother called out, her voice soft and sweet. Madara quietly walked over, holding the hand of his eldest brother. She was tired, breath still labored from childbirth. She extended her arm, allowing him to nestle at her side. “This is your little brother, Izuna,”_

_Izuna, Madara repeated in his mind. The baby was so pink, his little face scrunched up as he whined softly. His mother shifted so that Madara could hold Izuna, Tajima watching proudly._

_“You need to watch over him, and teach him,” his elder brother said, poking Madara on the forehead. “That’s the job of a big brother,”_

_“Big brother, big brother!” Izuna shouted, bounding over to Madara and jumping onto him, nearly knocking him over. “Teach me a new jutsu today please!”_

_“I can’t,” Madara placed a hand on his little brother’s head, ruffling his hair. “I have to train with Father later,”_

_Izuna pouted, and Madara laughed, his toddler brother so impatient._

_“I refuse,” Tajima said, folding his arms. “Madara, you need to think critically. He’s ill. If he doesn’t come out of it strong, then there’s no need to have him. It’ll be a mercy killing,”_

_“How can you say that about your own son?” Madara shouted back at his father for the price of a backhanded slap. Izuna was too sick to hear the conversation, feverish on his futon as the Uchiha medic worked on trying to heal him from the poisoned plant he had come in contact with._

_Izuna watched Madara flick the blade, their father’s blood spattering across the floor. Tajima slumped over onto the floor, body cooling. The Mangekyo spun in both their eyes, the fear of losing a little brother and the sadness of a father who desired to betray the clan spurring the change._

_Izuna was heavy, Madara noticed. Heavier than he used to be, when Madara was four and Izuna was an infant, the elder carrying the younger wherever he went, much to their mother’s amusement._

_Laying his bleeding brother on the floor as Izuna winced in pain, tears pricking his eyes, Madara felt powerless._

_Izuna’s eyes were his, now._

_His brother lay dead before him, cloth over his eyes, dressed in funeral robes._

_No one interacted with Madara in the days following Izuna’s death, the clan leader inconsolable. Hikaku was placed as temporary leader, taking charge of daily tasks while Madara locked himself in his room and sobbed, holding onto what was once his beloved little brother._

 

“Izuna?” Madara’s voice broke as he felt the hot sting of tears prick his eyes. Izuna looked back at him, eyes empty sockets. He looked so sad, a crack running across his face as if he were made of porcelain.

“Big brother?” Izuna spoke back, his throat dry as if he had swallowed sand. “Big brother, what’s going on? I can’t see,”

Madara fought back tears as he bit his lower lip, feeling Hashirama’s hand grab his shoulder.

“Tobirama, what is the meaning of this?” Hashirama asked, eyes locking with his younger brother. “Is this some cruel joke?”

“It’s the Edo Tensei jutsu I’ve been working on,” Tobirama said, looking back at Izuna. “I needed a test subject,”

“A test subject?” Madara laughed harshly. He shook his head, looking back at Izuna. He looked the same as the day Madara had buried him, dressed in white.

“Big brother,” Izuna whined, and even though there were no eyes, he cried. “Big brother, where are you?”

Izuna, when alive, had never been good at sensing, Madara remembered. He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he was before his brother.

Madara pulled Izuna close, holding him so tight as if he would slip away the minute he let go. Izuna pressed his face into the crook of Madara’s neck, sobbing quietly. Madara hid his face in Izuna’s shoulder as he let himself cry, anger boiling in his chest at the cruelty of Tobirama’s new jutsu. Tobirama, the man who was the reason why his little brother was no longer by his side.

“You know what today is,” Hashirama hissed, glaring at his brother. Tobirama crossed his arms, looking the other way to avoid his brother’s scolding.

“I miss you,” Madara mumbled, too quiet for anyone but Izuna to hear. “I miss you terribly,”

“I’m right here,” Izuna cried. “I’m not supposed to be here, Madara. I told you not to trust the Senju. I can’t be here. I don’t want to go back,”

“I didn’t want you to die,”

“I can’t die again,” Izuna cried harder, cold hands gripping the back of Madara’s robes, a hand on the Uchiha crest on his back. “I don’t want to leave you,”

“You need to stop this,” Hashirama said, voice threatening as he glared at Tobirama. “This is a cruel joke to play, little brother. How dare you,”

“Fine,” Tobirama relented, weaving the sign for the release.

“No,” Madara clung to Izuna tighter, overhearing the Senju brothers. “No, no, don’t release-”

“Madara, I don’t want to go,” Izuna pulled back, looking at his brother, chest heaving as he sobbed. “I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go,”

Izuna’s face seemed to disintegrate like paper, Madara shaking his head and trying not to cry as he watched his brother crumple away, letting go once the body of some unknown shinobi took his place, paper scattered across the floor like ash.

Tobirama had successfully stunned Madara into silence.  

**Author's Note:**

> I am soooo sorry for writing something sad because I was crying writing the latter half of this, but I got the idea and wanted to write it.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/critique if you would like.


End file.
